as to the necessity of a strong counter-irritant to a sudden
attack of awe of her as a fine lady and doubt of his own ability
to cope with her. "Good-by, Rita," cried he, releasing her as
suddenly as he had seized her and rushing toward the landing. "If
I don't get back till the last minute be sure you're ready.
Anything that isn't ready will be left behind--anything or
anybody!"

The idea of revolt, of refusing to go, appealed to her first anger
strongly. But, on consideration, she saw that merely asserting her
rights would not be enough--that she must train him to respect
them. If she refused to go he would simply leave her; yes, he was
just the man, the wild man, to do precisely that disgraceful
thing. And she would be horribly afraid to spend the night alone
in those woods with only the guides and Selina, not to speak of
facing the morrow--for he might refuse to take her back! Where
would she turn in that case? What would her grandmother say? Who
would support her in making such a scandal and giving up a husband
for reasons that could not be made impressive in words though they
were the best of all reasons in terms of feeling? No, if she gave
him up she would be absolutely alone, condemned on every hand, in
the worst possible position. Then, too, the break was unattractive
for another reason. Though she despised herself for her weakness,
she did not wish to give up the man who had given her that brief
glimpse of happiness she had dreamed as one dreams an
impossibility. Did not wish? Could not--would not--give him up.
"I belong to him!" she thought with a thrill of ecstasy and of
despair.

"But he'd better be careful!" she grumbled. "If I should begin to